Wondering
by Lessa
Summary: Has staring out a window ever made you wonder about your relationship with another? It does for Hermione. A little R/H.


Author's note: Hey all, I'm back. Sorry I haven't posted in so long - I owe that to my  
stupid semester finals. Darn chemistry....ugh. This one is kind of strange. It's from  
Hermione's PoV, about Ron...do I ever write anything else? Please review it - it's very  
odd, but I want to know what you think about it. Thanks a ton to everyone who has  
reviewed my other stories - those reviews make my month. Enjoy!  
  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing's mine.  
  
  
Important note: In this, Hermione wishes she had the features of a supermodel - you  
know, the impossibly tiny waist, the dyed hair, the fake perfect teeth, the works. I  
figured that she might think this because Ron went nuts over Fleur Delacour because of  
the way she looks. Please don't come to the conclusion that I think along those lines -  
because I don't!!!!! As I said before, the story wrote itself, I didn't mean to do it. :-)  
  
  
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Have you ever found yourself staring out of a window at something - a mountain top, an  
open field, a cloudless sky - wishing that you were somewhere you weren't, were  
someone you could never be, or had something you knew you could never have in a  
million years? Well, I have. I found myself doing that today, as a matter of fact; sitting  
in the window seat of the girls' dormitory, gazing at this mountain in the distance, the sky  
above it a perfect blue.  
  
  
Oh, how I wanted to be there and not where I was, stranded inside this castle, trapped  
inside my own emotions, having absolutely no idea of what was going on inside my own  
head. God, how I wanted to get out.  
  
  
Was I wishing to be someone I could never be, you ask? Yes - I suppose I was. I wanted  
to be one of those pretty girls on the covers of Parvati and Lavender's fashion magazines.   
You know, the ones with the shiny hair and the tiny waists and the perfect teeth, the ones  
that can walk down the street in their lipstick and high heels and have boys staring after  
them....what girl doesn't want to be one of those?  
  
  
And was I wishing I had something I didn't? I sure as hell was. I stared at that mountain  
top, wanting more than anything to be there and not have to worry about anything. Up  
there it wouldn't matter whether or not I had a tiny waist or perfect teeth or shiny  
hair....and up there, it wouldn't matter what Ron thought of me. The thing I wanted that I  
knew I could never have in a million years. Ron.  
  
  
Ron. The cause of my heartbreaks, tears, smiles, laughs, detentions, fights....the cause of  
my every action. Ron. "Why?" I wondered out loud, as though that mountain top would  
answer me. "Why? Why him, why me? Why?"  
  
  
Dear God. I was talking to myself. Isn't that one of the early signs of insanity? Next, I'll  
be walking up to random people in the streets, greeting them as if they were old friends  
as they stare at me in fright....  
  
  
No. No, no, no. He will not do this to me. Not Ron Weasley. He will never drive me  
insane - I'm my own person, I'm me. He has no power over me. None. Except that he  
can make me go weak at the knees just by giving me that adorable little lopsided,  
half-grin of his....  
  
  
"Why?" I said again, louder this time. "Why, WHY?"  
  
  
The room is silent. Of course it is. Who will answer me in a deserted dormitory?   
Certainly not that mountain top, no matter how much I wish it will.  
  
  
I wonder what he's doing now. I wonder what he's thinking. I wonder if he's thinking of  
me.  
  
  
Ha. Fat chance. Soon I'll have him riding into the dormitory on a white horse, hoisting  
me up behind him and us galloping off into the sunset...just us.....  
  
  
Outrageous. I'll drive myself mad with these thoughts - as if he ever thought of me as  
anything but a convenient source of homework assignments and test answers...I can't  
help but wonder - if I had silky hair and perfect teeth and a tiny waist...would that make  
him notice me? Does he care about those things?  
  
  
Would he ever take me as just plain old me, with frizzy hair and a ski-jump nose and  
too-pink cheeks? Could he see beyond that? God, I hope so.  
  
  
I had a sudden urge to open the window and fly off to that mountain top, to stand above  
it, free of these maddening thoughts, to laugh at the castle that was now holding me  
hostage, that would one day drive me insane....  
  
  
I turned sadly away from the window - I couldn't stand to look at that mountain anymore,  
or that blue sky, at all of that free, open space. I couldn't stand to keep thinking of those  
supermodels, and their damned lipstick and platform shoes. I couldn't stand to keep  
thinking about all the things I knew I could never have, like that red hair and those brown  
eyes and those freckles. I couldn't stand to keep thinking about Ron.  
  
  
But I couldn't stop picturing those scenarios - you know - the ones where your perfect  
match sees you for the very first time and falls hopelessly in love with you. This time,  
though, a new one was forming. I smiled slightly as I flopped backward onto my bed....I  
was standing on a mountain top, under a beautiful blue sky, in platforms and lipstick with  
my shiny hair blowing about behind me in the wind. Ron arrives on a white horse, and I  
give him a smile, showing off my perfect row of pearly teeth, and he puts his hands  
around my tiny waist and lifts me up behind him, and we gallop of into a sunset  
together....  
  
  
Hey, a girl can dream, can't she?  
  
  
Maybe I'll wake up and things will be different. Maybe I'll get up tomorrow, wrap my  
robes around my tiny waist, brush my perfect teeth, and head down to the common room.   
Ron will be there, and I'll flip my silky hair - you know, like they do in the movies. He'll  
smile that lopsided smile of his and offer me his arm. I'll flush pink - not too pink, like  
the scarlet tomato that I usually look like, but a sweet innocent pink. And then I'll take  
his arm and he'll lead me down to the Great Hall for breakfast. He'll open the door for  
me of course, and pull out my chair for me, and smile....  
  
  
Then again, maybe things won't be different tomorrow. Maybe I'll wake up and tie my  
robes around my average waist and brush my slightly crooked teeth and head down to the  
common room, where I'll brush my bushy hair out of my eyes. Ron will tug on one of  
my curls and then drag me down to breakfast, where he'll give the door a violent shove  
and walk through, without a glance at me. Then we'll fight and I'll wind up back at that  
window sill, staring at that mountain top, wishing I could sort out all the jumbled  
emotions in my mind.  
  
  
Maybe one day I will. Maybe one day I'll tell him the truth, how I really feel about him -  
tell him that I like him - that I like him a lot - and that I have for the past year and a half,  
and then maybe he'll smile at me and offer me his arm...  
  
  
Maybe someday. But, until then, I'll be sitting on the window seat watching that  
mountain top, wishing for the courage to let him know the truth.  
  
  
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Okay, so it was odd. Very odd. Sorry about that one - it just sort of wrote itself. Please  
review - if you liked it or if you didn't like it or if you want a sequel. Thanks again to  
everyone who reviewed my other stories and who reviews this one - it means so much to  
me. ~:-)  



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